


The Impossible Quest

by MyWritingCabin



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, Thorin being a broody bastard, Time Loop, Time Travel, but having a good reason for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 16:05:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1556192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyWritingCabin/pseuds/MyWritingCabin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How many times must he endure this? How many more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Impossible Quest

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently listening to the Captain America: The Winter Soldier OST makes me wanna write Hobbit fanfic. Who knew?

Thorin was tired. He was standing outside a green door with the wizard’s mark on it, hand raised, ready to knock, but he hesitated. He was tired. More than that, he was beyond tired; he was absolutely exhausted and ready to give up. He was tired of living and re-living this blasted thing all over again and again and again. He had for a long time now suspected that one of his ancestors had enraged Mahal very badly for his family to be cursed in such a way. His grandfather had succumbed to the gold fever, his father had gone mad and wandered off and Thorin? Thorin was apparently forced to wander the Middle Earth, was forced to try and reclaim Erebor. He knew it had something to do with the Lonely Mountain, for his troubles had all started after the first time he had died failing to enter the mountain and had been whisked back in time to when he was first making the preparations for the journey. 

For many times now he had tried and tried again with the same outcome. No matter the differences, no matter what precautions he took, it all ended the same way. With Smaug growing ever fatter and stronger inside Erebor, gorging on those who tried to forcefully reclaim it and still guarding his stolen treasure. 

The first try to enter the Lonely Mountain was an abomination, the likes of which he still did not want to think about. He suffered through many battle dreams because of that failed first mission. The first retry was no luckier and had resulted in the deaths off Fili and Kili in the hands of trolls, Dori, Nori and Bofur fell in the goblin caves and he himself in the hands off that thrice cursed pale orc. On his second retry he had forbidden his nephews from coming along, but the company had not even gotten past the Misty Mountains when orcs attacked with Azog in the lead and decimated their group. The furthest he’d ever got was on his sixth try, when he actually saw and breathed the air inside Erebor, but he wandered foolishly too far away from the rest that were left of their group, finally glad that he got to see and touch these sacred walls again and was grilled like a roast by Smaug. He died in the hands of Balin, promising himself he would do anything to change the outcome.

Oh, how young and naive he had been then. Now, attempting his tenth time, he knew better. He knew better than to have that foolish hope. Nothing could help them. Nothing at least that they could do. That is why he had listened to the words of a blasted wizard and was willing to take the risk. Nothing else what they’d done had worked, so why not do something completely ridiculous and take a _Halfling_ with them. It’s not like the outcome could be worse and the next time he was thrown back in time he would figure out something else and laugh what a stupid plan it had been to take a soft, fussy little hobbit with them.

He did not know how this Halfling could supposedly help him in his mission, but at this point, he was getting beyond desperate and was willing to do anything. Anything to get a little bit of rest. To finally enter the Halls of his Ancestors and say he did what he could. 

He was so weary of the world that he was not sure how many more tries he could take. Even now he was feeling older than Arda. Older than any other dwarf would ever be, should be, (save for Durin himself,) battle-hardened and exhausted.  
How could this hobbit, their supposed burglar, even help them on their impossible mission when not even Nori with all his skills and cunning could have helped? They‘d had his skills as a thief many times now and never had they helped them enough to kill a dragon. Even the wizard’s help had not been enough, so how could one little hobbit be of any use? Dwalin with his tactics, Dori with his strength, Balin and his wisdom, none of that had helped them previously. 

According to Gandalf, behind this green door was someone who could be their salvation. Could be the one to help them reclaim the mountain (and end his suffering). He did not see it, but it was not like it hurt to try. The worst possible outcome was that he was back again in Ered Luin in a matter of few months or even sooner, hurting from physical wounds that were no longer there and tormented by battle dreams that never ceased. 

He could hear laughing and singing from the inside, no doubt caused by his occasionally merry company and it gave him the courage he needed. 

He knocked and hoped for the best.

**Author's Note:**

> You can imagine any outcome you want to for this story, they are all possible. Maybe Thorin tried to reclaim Erebor for until the world ended, maybe he succeeded with the Hobbit in tow, but died at the end for the final time, maybe he lived through and had many dwobbits with Bilbo. You decide.


End file.
